


Kiss from a rose

by Donaji25



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Sherlolly - Freeform, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-23
Updated: 2015-01-23
Packaged: 2018-03-08 19:09:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3220151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Donaji25/pseuds/Donaji25
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock has just solved another case, he shouldn't be distracted like this, but founds himself unable to take his eyes off her. "To me you're like a growing addiction that I can't deny. Won't you tell me is that healthy, baby?..." (c) Seal - Kiss from a rose. Song's not mine, neither the characters, just a lovely story for all of you Sherlolly lovers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kiss from a rose

**Author's Note:**

> Don't know why I didn't uploaded this one here before, but now you can read it. This waas the first songfic I wrote and I had to take it off from its original place, hopefully you'll like it.

_There used to be a greying tower alone on the sea._   
_You became the light on the dark side of me._   
_Love remained a drug that's the high and not the pill._

  
_But did you know,_   
_that when it snows,_   
_my eyes become large and_   
_the light that you shine can be seen._   


Another case solved, he thought, looking out of the high windows of the manor they were currently in. The party around them had ended with the arrest of the criminal that was trying to detonate a bomb in the building, of course, said bomb had been deactivated, his clients were happy with final result and the fact that there were no lethal victims. Outside, the iron gray sea, shadowed by the heavy dark clouds was in relative calm. The light snow that had been falling making the night a bit gloomier than usual, given the events and the still flowing rush of adrenaline in his body he should be talking with Lestrade, giving the long explanation that he had prepared with all the data and clues he had found that had lead to finding the criminal.

Instead, his mind was on a completely different subject. The black and red dress with the silver flowers adorning her silhouette fell to just over her ankles, the black coat she was wearing complimented the contrast of the black fabric next to her pale skin. She was watching the snowflakes fall outside, the gates to the garden showing the snow covered bushes and trees, the Christmas white lights giving it an almost magical glow in combination with the warm yellow light from inside the room.

He could feel the fast beating of his heart, hammering in his chest with the emotion of the day, and the feelings that he had become used to feel when ever she was in the same room. It was intoxicating; the hormonal rush gave her a faint glow through his eyes, something that always managed to bring out a brighter mood to his usually neutral behavior.

_Baby, I compare you to a kiss from a rose on the grey._   
_Ooh, the more I get of you,_   
_Stranger it feels, yeah._   
_And now that your rose is in bloom,_   
_a light hits the gloom on the grave._   


Molly had get involved in the case by accident, she had been at Baker Street delivering some lungs for him to experiment on, when the client told him about the party he was going to give and that he had pointed as the best moment to catch the criminal, quickly telling him that if he was going to the party, the best he could do to keep from being ambushed by fans and finish his work was to bring some one as his date, and that it was better if it wasn’t John. Of course his best friend was going to be there as well, only he was going to be in observing the guests in a different zone of the room.

After hearing Sherlock confirming his presence at the party, and Molly saying that she would be happy to attend as well, John glared at the Consulting Detective with a mocking smirk on his face. They had been talking, it was hard not to notice Sherlock’s unusual craving of spending his free time at St. Bart’s lab; and after some teasing and confronting John had managed to learn the truth about his best friend’s hidden feelings.

And everything had gone even further when a new doctor started to pursue _his_ pathologist, sending her funny text messages with subtle invitations to lunch, annoying conversations at the canteen about his living patients, and the completely out of place pieces of parchment with fragments of poetry left over her desk. All of that drove him mad; John had noticed that and had given him a long class about proper behavior, always making him focus on the feelings she produced in him, using them to calm him enough to prevent an angry assault over the young doctor, keeping him in a tangle of emotions he couldn’t and didn’t want to control.

_There is so much a man can tell you,_   
_So much he can say._   
_You remain: my power, my pleasure, my pain, baby_   
_To me you're like a growing addiction that I can't deny._   
_Won't you tell me is that healthy, baby?_   


_But did you know,_   
_That when it snows,_   
_My eyes become large and the light that you shine can be seen._   


And still there she was, shyly walking outside and turning around with her arms lifted to catch some snowflakes with her bare hands. She looked at him, flashing him a wide and happy smile that made his stomach flip and his expression to mirror her.

Hesitating only for a second, having heard John’s voice coming from a place nearby, he followed her through the gates, feeling the lack of coat over his jacket at the cool temperature of the winter night. She reached for him and pulled his hands into hers.

She had attached herself to him, like a climber plant, growing around him, trapping him tightly and slowly until there was no way to walk out without breaking her. He wouldn’t dare to hurt her again, never. Rather watching the flowers blooming from her, the red as rose’s petals the same color that warmed her cheeks when she was with him. The same shade coloring her lips.

_Baby, I compare you to a kiss from a rose on the grey._   
_Ooh, the more I get of you_   
_Stranger it feels, yeah_   
_Now that your rose is in bloom._   
_A light hits the gloom on the grave._

Not really thinking he pulled her towards him, on its own accord his hand cradled her face and he leaned down, searching for the contact he had been looking for and sealing her lips with his, shivering at her warmth mouth as it collided with the cold he didn’t know he was feeling.

  
_I've been kissed by a rose on the grave;_   
_I've been kissed by a rose…_   
_I've been kissed by a rose on the grave._   


_...And if I should fall along the way_

He didn’t pay attention to the surprised gasp that John emitted at seeing them, to the soft whimper she made at the contact or to the slight pain of her hands pulling softly at his hair when they wrapped around his neck.

  
_I've been kissed by a rose…_   
_...been kissed by a rose on the grave._

_There is so much a man can tell you,_   
_So much he can say._

_You remain: my power, my pleasure, my pain._   


Regretfully taking his lips from hers, he looked down at her confused brown eyes, smiling a bit at the now much redder blush on her face. He didn’t have to look at John or Lestrade staring at them open mouthed, actually waiting to hear their playful comments about his foolishness and how long he delayed this. There were important things to be said now, and hopefully she will hear them with infinite patience.

Of course some of them would have to wait until much later, it was a cold snowy night and there were better places to talk and stay warm at the same time. And he would rather be kissing her again than staying on that cool garden with those two witnessing the radiant glow of the woman in front of him.

 

_To me you're like a growing addiction that I can't deny, yeah_   
_won’t you tell me is that healthy, baby._

  
_But did you know,_   
_that when it snows,_   
_my eyes become large and the light that you shine can be seen._

  
_Baby, I compare you to a kiss from a rose on the grey._   
_Ooh, the more I get of you_   
_Stranger it feels, yeah_   
_Now that your rose is in bloom;_   
_a light hits the gloom on the grave._

  
_Yes I compare you to a kiss from a rose on the grey_   
_Ooh, the more I get of you_   
_Stranger it feels, yeah_

  
_And now that your rose is in bloom_   
_a light hits the gloom on the grave_   
_Now that your rose is in bloom,_   
_a light hits the gloom on the grave._


End file.
